Free What the Lady Wants by Renée Rosen Page B

“Most of them wouldn’t know a piece of Pekin wool from a bolt of tweed.”
    Delia couldn’t help but laugh.
    â€œExcuse me?” Levi gave her a sharp look.
    â€œOh, surely you don’t believe that, Mr. Leiter.” No sooner had the words left her mouth than she regretted saying them.
    Arthur reached for her hand and gave her a warning squeeze. “You’ll have to forgive Delia,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m afraid my wife gets a bit passionate when it comes to ladies’ fashions.” He laughed again.
    â€œNo. No,” said Marshall, leaning forward. “I’d very much like to hear what she has to say. Delia,” he said, addressing her directly, “you certainly represent the modern woman. And, Levi, I’m sorry, but the modern woman is precisely our customer. Please”—he gestured to her—“go on.”
    â€œWell . . .” Delia cleared her throat and began. “For one thing, I believe that fashion is essential to a lady. Particularly a lady of means. It’s an expression, a form of art if it’s done properly. Mr. Leiter, I think you’d be surprised by how astute most women are when it comes to fashion.”
    â€œThat is precisely my point,” said Marshall.
    Delia eased back in her seat and smiled.
    Levi drew hard on his cigar. He was a big barrel-chested man with a reddish beard and dark hair combed straight down onto his wide forehead. When he spoke, he always sounded as if he had a head cold. “I tell you,” he said to Marshall, “you’re wasting your time and our money by catering to these women.” He gazed over at Delia, hands raised in apology. “No offense.”
    â€œOh, none taken.” She smiled. “But I do think Marshall here raises an interesting point.”
    â€œIs that so?”
    â€œWell, let’s face it,” she said, “for any woman of means, thedry goods store is our gathering place. If we’re not attending luncheons or women’s meetings, we’re at the dry goods stores. We go in the morning and we’re there until we either need to powder our noses or we’re about to drop from hunger.”
    The men laughed.
    â€œI’m quite serious. Where else are we women going to go? Of course we can visit a tearoom or attend our meetings at one another’s houses, but we’re not allowed in your clubs and we can’t very well congregate in saloons, now, can we? More to the point, we don’t have a place of business to go to. Keeping up with the latest fashions, and making sure you men live in the finest homes—those are the very things that have become our jobs. And we tend to our business at the dry goods stores.”
    â€œExactly,” said Marshall. “Levi, are you hearing what this young lady is saying?”
    Delia smiled, practically beaming. She’d never felt so validated. She was filled with a sense of acceptance and pride. She had a mind to fire up a cigar right along with them.
    Still, Levi wouldn’t let the subject go, so the discussion escalated with both men nearly shouting. Levi started pounding his fist against the arm of his chair and he went red in the face as a vein in the center of his forehead stood out, pulsing. “Marshall Field, you are no businessman.” Levi slapped his glass down on the table.
    The conversation continued and after finishing their cigars, they decided to rejoin the women in the parlor. When Delia walked in with the men, the wives rose from their chairs. Abby and Bertha stayed back while the others stood side by side with their arms crossed over their chests, forming a wall of disapproval. The cockatiels were flapping their wings like mad, chattering away in the corner.
    â€œThere you are,” Nannie said to Delia in a cool even tone. “We were wondering where you’d wandered off to.”
    â€œI’m afraid I was a bit light-headed. The